Nighttime
by freakily obsessed Yassen fan
Summary: Song fic with Music of the Night. Nights that shaped Yassen, and how he is. Suck at summaries, Fic is better!


**This is one of the more disturbing side-effects of listening to POTO at the same time as reading Eagle Strike! I own neither! Lyrics From Music of the Night.**

Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defences ...

Yassen stood in the darkness. A few yards away, the Police screamed past in a blur of light and sound. He followed them with his eyes, knowing where they were going - to the body that he had left in the middle of the main street.

He turned and darted away through the shadows. The adrenaline was still pulsing through his body and he could almost feel the night around him. It was like his personal space had extended. He could hear the breathing of an old tramp, curled under a pile of paper and card at the far end of an alley he passed. He could taste the pollution in the air, and his vision had cleared and sharpened until he might as well have been walking in daylight.

He was a killer.

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour  
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to the music of the night ...

Yassen crept away from the light, afraid of the men around it. He padded on silent feet to the edge of their makeshift camp and sat down in the frozen leaves – it was too cold for snow. He slid his hands into the inside of his jacket and huddled into himself.

Not for the first time, he wished he was strong enough to fight them, to show them exactly how much he hated them. Hell, he wished he could kill them.

He bared his teeth in annoyance as their harsh laughs reached him, echoing through the trees. If only he was older than sixteen. If only he was old enough to be a threat to them. He vowed that he would be.

He was alone.

Close your eyes and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never lived before...

Yassen stepped forward out of the darkness. He saw the fear flare in the man's eyes and felt a thrill of pleasure. He had put that there. He flicked his hand, too fast to follow, and a blade sprang from his fist. The fear turned to raw panic, but the man had the good sense not to run – he would be killed in an instant.

"Yassen," he murmured. The younger man nodded shortly. "You killed the others, then?" Another nod.

"Why?"

"So I can forget. You made my life hell for almost three years. I will not forgive you." In an instant, Yassen was less than a foot away and the knife was pressed to his throat. "Any last words?" He growled.

The older man shook his head very slightly. He was too tense to do anything else.

"Fine," Yassen said, and slit his throat. Blood spilled out and Yassen pushed the body away from him. It fell to the floor with a grisly crunch.

He forgot.

Softly, deftly,  
music shall caress you ...  
Hear it, feel it,  
secretly possess you ...  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of the music of the night ...

Yassen was strapped to a chair. He had long since ceased to struggle and he was slumped forward against his bonds, trying to sleep, despite the bright shaft of moonlight falling across his face.

Footsteps made him jerk upright again and he strained to look round. A hand grabbed his cheeks and forced him to turn back round. He heard someone pacing around the room behind him and wished fervently that he could turn.

"What are we going to do with you, Yassen?" The voice was male and familiar. He stayed silent. "Well?"

"I don't know," he growled.

"No. Me neither. You can't just kill people because you feel like it. No matter what your past is with them. The board want you to be punished." Once again, Yassen stayed silent. He didn't care – he had done what he wanted to do.

"Don't worry, you won't be punished. I won't let them." A hand descended onto his shoulder. "Just be careful." In one smooth motion, his bonds were cut and then silence reigned again as the man left the room.

Yassen got slowly to his feet, rubbing his bloody wrists, trying to get some circulation going.

He wouldn't lose control again.

Let your mind start a journey  
through a strange new world!  
Leave all thoughts  
of the life you knew before!  
Let your soul take you where you  
long to be!  
Only then can you belong to me...

Yassen was cold, inside and out. He was knelt in darkness, staring out over the sea spread out before him. His expression was still – a blank mask – but his mind was in turmoil.

His past was part of him, but he knew that he couldn't be an assassin while he let it haunt him. Could he do it? Could he forget everything that had happened before Scorpia? He had to.

He couldn't let it change his life now – he owed his life to Scorpia and he would repay them as well as he could. He owed them that much at least.

He changed.

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation!  
Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of the music that I write -  
the power of the music of the night ...

Yassen crushed his mouth against hers. She was nameless. He would never see her again, but his body was calling urgently for a release, and she would do.

His hands flashed over her body, and her clothes fell away. Too desperate now to bother with anything more, he kicked off his jeans and pulled her down onto the bed. Dark hair splayed across the pillow.

He liked women – liked the feel of their skin, their soft curves, their vulnerability – but he didn't kid himself. There was no way he would be able to have a steady girlfriend as an assassin, so he also liked the fact that they were disposable. He could use them when he needed to, and then move on. Never in one place long enough, they could never track him down.

He was alone again. Forever.

You alone can make my song take flight -  
help me make the music of the night . . .


End file.
